


Welcome to the Band Practice

by MortuaryBee



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - High School, Band Fic, Other, band practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortuaryBee/pseuds/MortuaryBee
Summary: After school jam.





	Welcome to the Band Practice

Gerard bobs his head to the sporadic rhythms and beats Matt lays down as they wait. He’s sitting to the left of the drumset and his feet are propped on the bass drum. He is intensely focused on his journal sketches for Mr. Vasquez’s illustration assignment he should’ve already finished. They’ve both lost track of the time since classes ended for the day. 

Ray kicks the ajar door to the third floor practice room fully open, startling Gerard. The chair he had been balancing on two legs clunks back to all four. “Shit!” He drops his journal in his lap and scrambles to keep the pen from rolling out of reach.“What the hell?” Matt doesn’t seem to notice the interruption.

Ray’s guitar case is strapped around his back and he’s carrying two small amps. “My bad.” He places the amps on the rightmost side of the floor in front of the drumset.

Gerard looks up and notices the amps. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

“Sweet,” Matt agrees.

Frank enters with a third amp, his own guitar strapped to his back, and a cable sticking out from both front pockets. He runs out again as Ray takes the last amp and sets it down a few feet beside Gerard. Ray pulls the top chair off a stack of plastic rejects behind him and drags it between the two amps on the right. He plops down, finally settled, and calls down the hall, 

“Where’d you get all this shit anyway?”

Frank reenters with a smile, a bass guitar in one hand, and a third cable in the other. “Dillholes hold detention in the room attached to the fucking storage.” He walks next to Ray and leans the bass guitar against the wall behind his chair. Ray’s frowns at the poor treatment of the instrument.

“Wait...” Gerard starts. 

“You pick locks?” Matt finishes.

Ray snorts.

“Pockets!” Frank brags.

“Bullshit! Mr. Armstrong doesn’t care,” Ray counters. “He’s passed out half the class. There’s no way he makes it through detention awake. You just grabbed the keys off his desk.”

“This freshman is insane.” says Matt and Ray laughs.

“Screw you!” Frank interjects. “Get it yourself next time.”

“Yes!” exclaims Gerard, seemingly oblivious to the conflict. “Got it. Okay,” He hops up and takes a half stride to the middle of the increasingly cramped room. “So I have these lyrics fuckin done finally.” He opens his mouth to read them off but stops and looks around. “No mic?” He shakes his head. “Whatever, fuck it. I’ll just yell either way. But we could really use some-

Mikey peers into the room looking for Gerard. Cheers erupt at his appearance.

“Mikey!”

“There he is!”

He frowns at the attention and nods at Gerard. “Fuck are you doing? It’s like six o’clock! Nonna’s gonna be pissed.”

Frank motions between the five of them. “We’re jammin’.” He smirks and grabs the bass guitar. “And you’re…” 

Frank creeps closer and Mikey holds his hands up and shakes his head. “I’m not really.”

Frank throws the strap over his shoulder anyway. “The bassist.”

“I just don’t-”

“Nobody knows how to fucking play.” Franks waves him off as he walks back to his guitar on the chair next to Ray. “Just use the bottom two strings like they’re good pussy in a dry spell and we’re gone.”

Gerard laughs. “Why the fuck would that help Mikey?”

Ray turns to Gerard and raises an eyebrow. “Like it’s gonna help you?”

“Whatever,” Gerard shrugs. “He knows I’m joking.”

“We playing or...?” Mikey asks.

“Yes! Jesus fucking christ. Yes.” Matt starts the beat and Mikey catches it near instantly, falling into the rhythm. 

“Woah,” Rays brows shoot up. “You’ve been practicing.”

Mikey nods. “Dave’s been showing me some shit.”

“Diebak?” Gerards asks, eyes narrowed. Mikey nods. Gerard hums in consideration. “Yeah, he’s alright. I guess.”

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Did I fucking ask if he was alright?”

Gerard furrows his brow and opens his mouth, but Ray cuts in with a new riff, drowning out what he was about to say. “You said you got lyrics?”

“You know it.”

The next hour is exhaustive and loud. They throw out covers of Metallica’s “Hit the Lights” The Mifits’ “Astro Zombies“ Black Sabbath’s “Crazy train” among others to warm up for a shaky version of “Cubicles.” The song is played through twice but their session is interrupted by the door opening as they’re tightening up for a third go.

“Hello boys.” The man looks Ray up and down. “Mr. Toro! You’ve apparently become a giant since my homeroom freshman year. Congratulations.”

“Thanks?” Ray leans away from the weight of a palm on his shoulder “Uh, Mr. Spader-

“Don’t mind me.” Mr. Spader looks languidly around the cramped room. “This is my stroll hour.”

“Stroll hour,” Gerard asks.

“Yes, stroll hour. You see, I take an hour...” He waits for nods before continuing, “At least once per week to peruse the halls of this school unbridled by swarms of students or the cacophony of budding cynicism and enlightenment. To observe what secrets, and the occasional stray cat, lie unexposed."

Frank turns to Ray. “This got really fucking weird.” Ray nods as they both move to take off their straps.

"And so, I’m not here as a teacher,” James continues as if nothing was said. “I’m not here to remind you of readings or due dates or late assignments. Although I do hope you’re all studying for your respective English and Literature finals. But, now." 

His arm sweeps in a gesture that encompasses the room. "Here, I am a listener. A receptacle for that novelty which is called art. Empty if not for a new, genuinely raw, performance of sound."

“Actually it’s getting kinda late.” Ray makes the excuse before backing out of the room and opening the door wide. 

Frank is on his heels. “I should’ve left at three."

Gerard catches the door as it closes. “Us too!” He waves his brother over. “Come on Mike.”

James refocuses on Matt. “Mr. Pelissier?” It sounds more like an invitation than a question.

Matt backs up as he stands and nearly knocks over the stool. Both sticks are in his right hand as he awkwardly shuffles out from behind the drumset in the cramped space. “I have homework, so. You know.”

“Of course you do.” Mr. Spader leans back in his chair as the door closes. He chuckles to himself. “Ah, to be young and insecure.”


End file.
